


Feel Something

by LikeFeverDreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Cocaine, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Overdosing, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeFeverDreams/pseuds/LikeFeverDreams
Summary: He exhaled the plume of smoke, staring at the rising sun from the window of his tiny, shitty apartment. Someone's dog was barking at the ongoing construction and the jackhammers drilled holes in his skull.What a great fucking start to his day.
Kudos: 3





	Feel Something

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Jaymes Young's song "Feel Something."

**!¡!¡!¡ W A R N I N G ¡!¡!¡!**  
SUICIDE  
STARVATION  
PROSTITUTION   
etc

He exhaled the plume of smoke, staring at the rising sun from the window of his tiny, shitty apartment. Someone's dog was barking at the ongoing construction and the jackhammers drilled holes in his skull.

What a great fucking start to his day.

* * *

I watched the smoke rise in my room before I set my pipe down on the rickety excuse of a bedside table. I stepped over the trash and clothes on the floor, opening my window to let the smoke air out. It was already past noon, but I'd gotten used to waking up late.

It was a pretty warm day, so I slipped on shorts and a hoodie with the sleeves and torso cropped off. I had to buy more lighter fuel at the store. After grabbing my cracked phone and money, I headed out of my apartment. I don't really need to lock my door - not like I have anything worth stealing other than some drugs. 

I had to walk to the store. Not my favorite thing, but it's not like I could afford a car, and my bike got stolen a few months ago. It was a piece of crap anyway. I didn't grab a shopping cart as I headed in, making a beeline for the lighter fuel. 

As soon as I grabbed what I needed, I waited in line. I could feel eyes on me, judging me by my cheap clothes and the fact I only came here to buy fuel for my addi- 

"Miles!" A girl's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I stepped up to the register. "How're you doing? You should really eat some more, you know. I can see your ribs. I can let you buy something to eat! I'll use my own money to pay for it."

I sighed as I slid her the fuel. "Crappy as any other day. And no thanks, I don't need it today." Bethany was a pretty girl. She had big blue eyes, and she was nice, but she was too peppy and and talkative for my taste. Not like I had any interest in girls in the first place. 

"Why not? You always like freeloading off me, haha." She gave me a bright, white smile and I grimaced, pulling the crinkled bills and coins from my pocket and handing them over. Bethany didn't even bat an eye as she took the filthy money, sliding them into the register.

"I don't plan on doing anything today. Don't need the food anyway." I said. Any other day I would've taken up the offer, but I didn't need her pity meals today. I didn't give her another glance as I walked out the door with my purchase, barely waiting for her goodbye. It might be rude, but does it really matter?

I didn't have quite enough money for today, since I didn't have any deals. So, I headed home and refueled my lighter, setting it aside. After preparing myself, I changed into something more skimpy and slutty, sliding on my lingerie beneath my clothing. They barely covered my lingerie, but that didn't matter. Some customers like when I wear it, so I wasted the money on buying the panties and skipped out on food. 

I might be pale and skinny in that sort of sickly way and not the hot way, but that doesn't matter. As long as I look okay enough and they have a hole to fuck, they'll pay. I combed out my hair a little, scowling at my own reflection before heading outside, going downtown. It had less competition, and there were plenty of horny, drunk men out tonight looking for a quick fuck.

I walked around for a while, offering my services. It was all like clockwork at this point, just routine. Bland. Soon enough, I was dragged off into an alleyway. The big, sweaty man that had pulled me along shoved my face against the brick wall, yanking my shorts down. He didn't even bother taking off the lingerie, just nudging it to the side and pushing in. 

I grit my teeth - it hurt. I prepared myself at home, but he was dry and big. I spread my legs wider to make it easier on my body but by then he was already roughly shoving his cock in and out, punching the air from my lungs. I felt numb - disconnecting my mind from my body. I could feel his disgusting breath on my neck, his hands bruising my hips. I wasn't that short, but my frame was thin and weak. 

His grimy hands grabbed at my body. I didn't really have a use for the money I'd get from this. Maybe I could donate it to some random charity. Do something good. 

"Agh!" My hands scraped against the bricks, making them hurt as my customer got harsher with me. My lower half ached, but neither of us cared. I was hard, unsurprisingly, my length swinging slightly from the sheer force of his thrusts. 

I shut my eyes, just trying to bear through it. After an eternity, he spilled inside of me and pulled out, chuckling and squeezing me. It felt sticky and wet between my thighs, and I could hardly stand. "Wh- Get back here!" I clenched my hands around my shorts, pulling them up. This fucker just ran off without paying.

I took a moment to calm down, shaking my head. It was fine. I didn't need the money. I had some left over that I could donate. I stumbled my way home, trying to ignore the sticky mess in my shorts that was undoubtedly dripping down my thighs. 

After I took a short, cold shower to clean myself out, I changed into something more modest and grabbed the rest of my money, leaving once again. I found a charity to donate to, but.. Would my contribution really even make a dent? It was a measly five dollars. I sighed and gave it away anyway. Might as well do one good deed before today ends. 

I returned to my dingy apartment, laying in bed. What a crappy day. It was only a few hours, but still. I groaned and picked up my pipe and lighter, beginning to smoke the crack cocaine I had. 

I blew out the smoke, soon feeling the effects. I already cut off my family, but it wasn't like my life after that was any better. I made a lot of fucked up mistakes when I moved out. I barely knew how to cook, or do laundry, or pay bills. I could barely hold up a job.

I'm practically useless when it comes to work - I always fuck up something or argue with someone important. I try, I do, but it's never enough. Then on most days I can't get enough motivation to go find other work. 

My appetite has been dwindling. Or maybe I'm just forcing myself to starve. Slim down a bit more so I look desirable. But no matter how long I starve, I can never lose enough pounds. I lose a few then gain them right back the moment I eat anything. 

I take a drag and exhale out the smoke, feeling my head cloud. It feels nice but I still feel like crap.

My apartment is almost silent, save for the construction outside and the dog barking again. It feels dark. If I tried a little harder and reached out to people, I could probably make a friend. I could be friends with Bethany if I tried. But I just can't find the willpower to do it. What would I even say to start with?

It might hurt to be alone and never reach out, speak out about what makes my heart ache and my blood boil, but I'd rather do that than interact with others. My problems would just bother them - I know it makes them uncomfortable when I talk about it. No one ever really wants me to speak about it, because it's a nuisance to them. And I understand it. I wouldn't want to listen to me either.

I exhale another puff of smoke. I'm probably overdosing, but really, that wouldn't be too bad. What do I have to look forward to tomorrow? My landlord knocking at my door because I haven't paid rent? The neighbor's dog waking me up at two in the morning? Another empty stomach? I take another slow drag. I can feel it in my system, but I don't care. I don't have anything or anyone to live for anyway.

My mind drifts back to the dark recesses of depression. A sharp pang of loneliness makes my chest seize up, and my eyes tear up thinking about how the first person that will find me like this is my landlord. Not a close friend worried about my health and wellbeing. Not a mother concerned that I'm not replying to her messages. A stranger, angry at me for not scraping together the money to pay for a shithole. I reach for my phone with shaky fingers. Two spam messages advertising knockoff Viagra and a notification about the news. I let my phone slide from my fingers and hit the floor with a dull crack. 

It's starting to hurt. Everything. I just close my eyes and take another drag, block the thoughts out. Exhale. Tears run down my cheeks. My chest aches. It's hard to breathe and I can't tell if it's because I'm sobbing silently or because of the amount I'm smoking. 

As I exhale, I look out the window. At the moon. I hear blissful silence - no construction or dog barking, no angry shouting from the couple next door. 

The pipe slips from my fingers and I hear the glass shatter on the hardwood floor. Someone shouts at me because of the noise but I'm not listening. It feels cold, laying here in my sheets. I can't tell if my heart is racing or if it's slowing. I don't care anymore.

I close my eyes.

My apartment is empty, littered with trash and clothing. I lay on the small bed, my skin freezing or heating up- I can't tell. I feel so small, curled up here in nothing but shorts and a tank top, cheeks stained with my drying tears. It's quiet, the noises around me are a dull murmur. They slowly fade away...

I hear nothing. 

_Time of death - 11:53 p.m._


End file.
